


Dragon Hearts

by GraceJordan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceJordan/pseuds/GraceJordan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the time of dragons, one soul of ice and one of fire meet to create the most unthought of and also the most unstoppable duo the world of Skyrim has ever seen. *Rated M for violence and sexual material in later chapters*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

Silence. 

Silence was what made Aurica comfortable, the knowledge nothing and no one could hear her, and no one could interrupt the serenity she felt within.

The target before her lay sleeping in a bed roll, completely unaware of her presence. From her rock perch, the bandit hadn’t a chance. Without a sound, she pulled back the string of her bow and took aim at his thieving head. You do not take from my home without consequences. Releasing the arrow, there was a short moan before silence came once more. Blood dripped and moved, but the bandit was dead. 

Crawling down from her hiding place, Aurica remained silent. It would be easy to run and claim her prize, but confrontation with any other creature was not in her plan. She would do what must be done and nothing else. Her blood burned at the sight of the man who stole from Dengeir. An iron arrow stuck though his skull, she had never felt so darkly pleased. It sickened her, but she also knew this taste for murder was a gift her parents had given her. One she should use to right the wrongs of this dark world. 

Shaking her head and forgetting his filth, Aurica dug into the man’s bag to retrieve what had cost this man’s blood. Her fingers curled around the hilt of a sword and pulled. Out of the bag came a black sword with markings of old covering it, and she could not help but revel in its glory. No wonder Dengeir saw it as his most prized possession. The blade was something of legends. 

Just then a twig cracked and she saw the outline of a bear a little ways off. He was hungry for meat, and the dead man’s blood probably smelled delicious.

Skulking back into the shadows, Aurica headed back home to Falkreath to give the sword back to its rightful owner. The forests remained silent, even though a man was dead. It wouldn’t be until hours later that guards would find the murdered thief on the side of the road, nothing left but a carcass and a broken arrow. 

But by then Aurica would be back in town, home and quiet once more.

Beautiful silence. 

XXX

Roan hated the smug look on the executioner’s face as he put his head to the block. Years of training to gain his vengeance, and his life would end hands bound and on the ground, not a single damn Nord dead by his hands. He had done nothing and yet he already ruined any chance he had of making them pay. The fury that burned in his heart nearly caught him on fire, but he wouldn’t get far anyway. There were dozens of guards. He was as good as dead the second he entered Helgen.

Just as he accepted his death, a roar sounded in the distance. Anxious looks passed between guards, and the flame within him smiled. A beast was coming? Just what he needed. Another monster of blood, just like him. 

As the executioner raised the axe, a dragon appeared and bellowed, sending everyone into disarray. This was his chance at freedom and blood once more. And he would take it. 

XXX

“Aurica, how did you ever get it back?” Dengeir had a grin on his face that would have been worth the deaths of a hundred bandits. Aurica felt her heart warm once more as he held his beloved sword to his chest. Shrugging nonchalantly, she refused to recollect and relay the events of last night that led to the retrieval. She was not proud of her abilities, but she used them well. In her silence, Dengeir nodded and understood the implications. “Regardless, this means the world to me, dear. This sword has been in my family for years.” He pulled her into a quick embrace that she welcomed warmly. Other than her parents, Dengeir had been the only friend she had outside of home. It only felt right to do anything to protect him.

Pulling away, Aurica sat in a chair by the fire, her chair, and gave a small grin. “You deserve it after all those years I came barreling over to your house to beg you for stories.” Placing her bow and arrows on the ground next to her, she allowed herself comfort that she never indulged in other than at home. Or with Dengeir. “I saw a crazy old man and always assumed some good tales would come.”

He sat in a chair beside her, reminiscing her childhood as well. “And you were right. I spent hours telling you of heroic Nords and fearless Companions. You were the only one in this town that gave me a second thought.”

Aurica sighed. As she aged, she only slowly realized the lack of trust Dengeir had. It had taken years for him to believe she was not an Imperial spy, and she was merely a child when he met her. Years later, she knew of no one but herself and a few key family members that he trusted. Everyone was out to get him, in his mind. “I loved every minute of it. Even if Father did not agree so much with the way the Companions worked, I always admired them.” That little secret, her desire to be one of them, was one never uttered outside Dengeir’s home. Her father would not appreciate his daughter admiring people he did not agree with. 

Her mentor paused in thought and looked at her seriously. “Aurica, will I ever get to meet these parents of yours?"

Gulping, she shook her head. “No, they’re not quite…” Picturing her mother jabbing a knife into a man’s ribcage and her father shifting into a beast created conviction of her decision. “Social people.” Standing, she brushed off her pant, grabbed her weapons, and headed for the door. She had been gone from home long enough, she did not care to make them worry. “I really must be going anyway.”

Dengeir gave her a sad look and a disappointed sigh. “Goodbye, Aurica.” 

In her heart, she knew her mistrust hurt him. But she could not help it. How could you explain to a man who told of honor and legends that your family is the epitome of darkness? She gave him a sorrowful look and muttered, “Goodbye, Dengeir.”

She knew it wasn’t easy being the daughter of assassins, but sometimes she wished she it could be. 

XXX

The blood had not been enough. 

Throughout his trek through the bowels of Helgen, killing every damned Stormcloak he could find, Roan could not find any satisfaction. He thought any ounce of Nord blood on his hands would make his anger, his flame, feel a bit quenched, but if anything it grew stronger. Now as he followed the Imperial Nord, Hadvar, to his home in Riverwood, a dark part of him wanted nothing but to run his blade across his throat. 

Half an hour ago he would have.

But he knew that it would lead him nowhere so he begrudgingly took this filth as his guide. At least he had enough sense to side with the Imperials, the friends of the elves. He deserved to die a little bit less than the rest of the Nordic scum. 

Now they were headed to this small town for supplies and further instruction on where to go next. Roan knew where he desired to head, straight to Windhelm to murder the worst of the bastards, but without the gear he had in Marrowind he was far less prepared for such an attack. Maybe if he was more like an assassin, he could do it. But he was not known for his subtlety, and had no desire to make anything about his kills sneaky. All of Skyrim would watch Windhelm burn. 

And he would do whatever it takes to make it happen. 

XXX


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roan hated Nords, more than anything. Aurica grew up wishing she was one. The pair have yet to meet, but the road already seems rocky, for a pair so different...

The dim lights of the Sanctuary welcomed Aurica as she stepped into her home. Breathing here was easier than it was anywhere else in the Hold. Here Aurica knew there was no sneaking, no stealth, just warmth and a family that loved her. 

Entering the main hall, the sound of Vazeera’s commonplace sword practice and her father’s ironwork welcomed her ears. Only here did the absence of silence bring her joy. “Bite-size!” Her father strode forward and opened his arms to her. Not often did Arnbjorn show affection, and when he did he meant it. Astrid, Aurica, and the Brotherhood were his entire world. The girl felt safe in her father’s loving arms, his long, matted hair touching her face. From a young age she had accepted her father’s uniqueness, from his white hair to his always bare feet. 

Smiling at him as he released her from his tight embrace, she came out of her silent shell. “Hello, Father.”

He nodded and inquired, “Good killing?”

“Silent as the dead. The shadows were my friends.” 

Her father chuckled. “The shadows always seem to favor you, little one.” Then he gave her a look of curiosity. “Did you at least spill some of his blood? Make it a bit messy?”  
Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms. “One arrow to the head. Barely any blood.”

“Why do you always ruin all the fun of it?”

Leaning on the wall by his work, Aurica went to inspect her very unused dagger. “Not all of us enjoy the blood as much as you.”

Glancing at his daughter, he growled at her belligerence. Of all of the members, she was the most reluctant of the Dark Brotherhood, but she was one of the best. Her Elven ears pricked out from beneath her dark brown hair as she fiddled with the blade her mother gave her that she rarely used. “Bite-size, you are wasting the beast within.”

She looked up at Arnbjorn and almost frowned. If anyone could spot a monster, it was her werewolf father. To accept she was a beast inside was accepting defeat. Aurica had dreamed of heroism since childhood, and murder had little to do with it. Yet he was right; she had a flare for death. But she would never admit to liking it.

Scoffing, she took out on of her arrows to sharpen it. “I am a short Wood Elf, Father. I’m just wonderful at archery and stealth.” 

“You know well what I speak of, Aurica. There is an ice in your veins just as there is in mine. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t hot blood in there too.” She looked away and Arnbjorn cursed the day he allowed his little one to turn into an adult. Instead of admiring them and trying her best to catch up, she was now one of the best and wanted more than the life his wife had built for them. 

Her eyes were downcast. “I know, Father.” She couldn’t bear to look into her father’s eyes and see his love and respect be cast down by someone he loved. Aurica knew she was good. But she was afraid that with such a monster in her, she could never be good. 

And being a hero had been the only thing she had dreamt of since childhood.

Looking around the Sanctuary that had been her home for years, she felt her heart twinge at the waterfall she had learned to swim in, the dummies she had practiced upon since childhood, the dim light that made her feel so warm. Despite the darkness, this was the only home she knew. The people who lived in it were the only people she had ever loved. But some part of her heart kept screaming, there’s so much more.

Even her parents seemed to notice the yearning to leave in her. Her mother had never sent her on a mission outside of the Falkreath Hold, as if she knew that Aurica would leave if she ever saw a world outside the mist and beautiful gloom. She merely wanted to see a world outside of the one she knew. Yet she was stuck here, knowing nothing of Skyrim. It killed her. 

Arnbjorn stared at his daughter, looking positively sullen as she stood in her usual spot close by. The killer in him chastised her vulnerability, her weakness. An assassin was only safe in their natural habitat, and he burned to think she wanted to be anywhere else than where she belonged. Yet the father in him saw his twenty year old daughter that dreamed of more than he could ever give her. It killed him. 

He would die if she left, but he would kill her if she stayed.

XXX

Roan was thoroughly disgusted. 

The second he got into Riverwood, he thought he found salvation in a fellow elf by the name of Faendal. He was even an archer, a weapon he hadn’t the patience to learn how to wield. Admiration spurred from the sight of the wood elf, but it soon died when he spoke to the man. Faendal was walking with him through town. “Riverwood’s agreeable enough, I suppose. For a Nord village.”

With a small smile, Roan chuckled as they strode down the street. “If only there were more of our kind here. Why do you stay around if you are the only Bosmer?” After a long day in Riverwood with the horrid Nords and what he had gone through traveling on his own, he had been contemplating companionship. Faendal had seemed pleasant enough company, and a good shot. Perhaps another Mer on his trek for vengeance would seem more worthwhile. Gods knew his few outings from the town to kill stray bandits had yet to quench his thirsts. 

Or maybe after months of solitude, to see another face like his own was merely refreshing in its own. 

Faendal gave a wary and wry grin. “I stay here because there is this woman, Camilla, that I want to be with.” All thoughts of companionship died as Roan’s flame burned. This Bosmer had forsaken his kind for a pretty Nord. Forget companionship, He scowled, these Skyrim elves are soft. 

“A Nord woman?”

The wood elf gave him a sharp look at his tone. “Yes, a Nord woman.” Stopping, he saw the little flames burning in Roan’s eyes and crossed his arms. Yet Faendal knew a fight with an elf like Roan would not help in any way. Looking off towards the Riverwood Trader, where his beloved stayed, he distanced himself from the Dunmer. “I have work to do. Please excuse me.”

Rolling his eyes, Roan watched his own blood walk willfully towards the affections of a Nord. There was a sickening in his stomach. Such savages could hold love? Obviously not. At least, not for anyone but their own kind. Windhelm had shown him that at a young age. 

“Its sickening, watching him go after her like that.” Roan jerked at the sound of another voice. Hand splaying over the hilt of his blade, he turned to meet the eyes of the local Bard. 

Sven was a useless fellow who did nothing but sing and make pretty rhymes for a living. It was foolish. Roan took his hand away from his blade. Yet another hateful man who saw his people as pests. If only he could kill him right now. “You Nords are so pompous.” Another glance and he saw a pained look in the man’s eyes as Faendal entered the Riverwood Trader with a smile from the Camilla girl. Roan almost burst with laughter. He only allowed himself a short chortle. “Oh, I see Camilla has another bug in her web.” The pained look on Sven’s face was priceless. How could he not see a harlot for what she was? Camilla obviously played with men for her own pleasure. He slowly felt himself growing an extreme distaste for this heartless woman. A true Nord, surely. 

Coughing awkwardly, Sven extended a note to him and gave a convicted look. “Give this note to Camilla and say its from Faendal. That should stop that stupid elf from coming around.” Roan stared at his hand and had half a mind to cut it off. That stupid elf. Even out of Windhelm, Nords were the same. Racist monsters. 

But as he watched Faendal walk out of the shop with the cheeriest grin, Roan contemplated something he never thought before. Giving a Nord a chance. A choice. Camilla would be tested to see who was right, he or Faendal. But the stakes needed to be higher for this to be fun. 

And no matter who won, Roan would shed blood in this silent town. 

Quickly taking the note from Sven, sure not to touch him, he gave a reluctant grin. “Sure, friend.” Sven may have sauntered off with a smug grin, but Roan dreamt of stabbing his knife through his ever greedy heart. But it was not his choice who he would kill tonight. No, only sweet Camilla would have the choice in her hands, and Gods be damned if she picked wrong.

Heading towards the Riverwood Trader, he watched the she-witch herself walked out, her red lips puckered and her walk confident. She was attractive, she knew it well, and used it. Roan hated her already. But maybe she could give herself some retribution once actually talked to.

But Gods knew that was unlikely. 

Roan followed her to the edge of town, a remote section in which no one could see them. He couldn’t be too cautious, in matters such as the heart. Some people saw it as the epitome of all emotion, but Roan saw it as a way to make people bleed. 

Straightening, he came up behind her and put on his best, genial grin. “Camilla! Wait!” The woman turned and raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down before giving a cautious smile. One that spoke of desire and fear. This woman was so lustful that she even fancied that which she feared and hated most. The anticipation was killing him. 

Camilla made her brown eyes sparkle as she strode a bit closer. “You’re the traveler Hadvar brought, right?”

“Yes.” Avoiding the deadly gaze of the she-beast, he drew the letter from his pocket and gave her a smile. On the outside it seemed kind, but he knew what this letter would bring. To add flair to his joy and deliverance, Roan took her hand and kissed it before placing the letter in her grasp. “Faendal told me to give this letter to you.”

She smirked. “Oh he did, did he?” Glancing down, she went to open the note and Roan was at the point of ripping it open himself and shoving it in her face. This game was taking longer than he thought it would. Her eyes scanned the paper, and with each word her smile faded. By the bottom of her page her face was pinched into a scowl and Roan waited for her answer. Her eyes flicked up and she threw the note at Roan. “Well tell that damn elf not to bother coming around the Riverwood Trader anymore!”

This was too good. Roan gave her a smirk, and tried to be friendly. “You’re not going to ever ask him to explain?” She crossed her arms and glared. 

“There is nothing to explain. I am done with him. Forever! I gave him one chance and-“

“What if Sven wrote that note? Would you give him a second chance?”

Camilla stood aghast, caught off guard. “I don’t know! Well, I suppose so, because Sven couldn’t write something so... vulgar!”

The joy left as Roan stared at her. Yet another Nord with nothing but distaste for Elven kind. He gave her the chance to redeem herself, and she had failed. She was no better than the others. Giving a dark chuckle, Roan shook his head. “That’s where you’re mistaken, Miss.” Taking her shoulder in his grasp and pulling, hard, towards him, he stared down into her eyes and made her look at him. “Sven told me to say it was Faendal.” Camilla realized the flames in his eyes and the weight of the situation. Futilely, she tried to rip herself from his grasp. But Roan was stronger. “You are just another bastard Nord who thinks themselves better than the lowly elves.” Pulling his blade from his waist, he watched the fear rise. She was so frail, so small, yet every rabid dog needed to be put down. And she had hunger, she was sick with it. “Maybe its about time you learn that you are a very small, insignificant creature. They probably won’t even find your body for another day or so.” He placed his blade to her heart, and a tear fell down her eyes. Feeling his flame turn into a fire, he growled, “Say hello to my Father for me.” And then he pushed.

Blood gushed down his fingertips, red hot blood as her cannibalistic heart was stopped from gorging itself on others. The lips of Camilla Verelius would never plague any man ever again. He would have been content to kill Sven and let her and Faendal be if the wood elf had been right about her heart. But her heart was a Nord heart, and it loved no one but itself. 

Letting her body fall off his knife, Roan cleaned the dirty blood off with her clothes. He wouldn’t dare punish his blade with such filth. His flame was content for now, knowing that a Nord is a Nord, and nothing would ever change that. Picking up the now blood stained note, he left her there for whoever found her first.  
Walking back into town, Roan made sure to make a stop by Faendal’s home before disappearing into the night. Haldvar had told him it would be wise to warn the Jarl of Whiterun of dragons, and now would be a good time to leave Riverwood. Knocking on the Bosmer’s door, he kept his face like stone as the door opened. “Hello?” At the sight of Roan, Faendal rolled his eyes. “Oh, well isn’t it the cynical Dunmer once more.”

Roan shook his head and took out the bloodied letter. “I may be a cynical Dunmer, Faendal,” He paused and handed him the note. The confusion on his face would give Roan enough time to leave before he understood. Then he would be gone, and no one could catch him for his crime. A crime his victim deserved every moment of. “But your Camilla is a True Nord.” With that, Roan turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a clueless but fearful Bosmer at his doorway, wondering what he meant about his beloved Camilla.  
Only once dawn hit did the wolves cry loud enough for Riverwood to know a woman lay dead. 

XXX

The petite, Elven girl stood breathing heavily against a wall, trying to muster up the courage to confront her family. She couldn’t bear spend another day here, suffocating in blood. She needed to find herself. Aurica only prayed her parents would understand. Otherwise her departure would be a less than pleasant affair. 

Turning around the corner, she coughed awkwardly, standing next to her tall, large Nord parents. Astrid raised a long, blonde eyebrow in intrigue at her, for it wasn’t often Aurica interrupted when Arnbjorn and her were talking of Brotherhood business.

“Aurica? What is it?”

Aurica coughed, clearing her throat. “There is something serious I want to talk to you and Father about.”

“What is it, Bite-size?” Arnbjorn rose from his seat, concern growing for his daughter. Aurica sighed and gestured for him to sit back down. 

“I want to go on an adventure outside of Falkreath.”

Astrid blinked. “But you have never been outside of Falkreath, Aurica. You know nothing of the world.”

“Precisely why I should go, Mother!” Aurica sighed. “I’m twenty. I need to begin seeing Skyrim, or I will never see outside of Falkreath hold. I want to see the world of Skyrim. I don’t want to be locked up here forever.”

Arnbjorn stood again and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He sighed, and Astrid placed a hand on her husband’s. They looked at one another before looking to her. “We knew this day would come.” Arnbjorn took a step closer to his daughter. “Are you sure its not because you’re adopted, Aurica? Are you hoping to find your long lost family, because, we’re sorry, honey, but when we found you we found her dead.”

Aurica took a step away and shook her head angrily. “This is not about my mother or any family. You are my family. But I want something more than just killing in my life. I want adventure, I want to be more than just a member of the Brotherhood. Mother, please.” She crossed her arms and shook her head again. “If I don’t get your blessing I’ll leave anyway. So please.”

Astrid closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “We need you, Aurica. You are our daughter.”

“And I always will be.” Aurica took a step closer to her parents. “I will come back, I promise. But I need to do this first.”

“Alright.” Aurica threw her arms around her parents. 

Arnbjorn chuckled. “Guess our little Bite-size isn’t so bite sized anymore.” He ruffled her hair and hugged her back. 

That night, they packed her a bag full of food and clothes, and made sure she had a full quiver of arrows. All the Brotherhood came to the main hall to wish her goodbye, even Babette, who Aurica had never quite gotten along with. They all said goodbye to their youngest member, and wished her well on her journey. Their wishes often involved sharp blades and good kills, but they meant well. Aurica had tears in her eyes when she finally made it to the Brotherhood entrance. It killed her to leave, but she also would have died if she stayed. 

And with a silent goodbye, she exited the Sanctuary and sped off into the night.

XXX


	3. Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roan is reminded a bit about his past and delves into a deep depression, and Aurica finally is seeing her dreams come true.  
> But being in the same city, it won't be long before the two may chance a meeting...

Roan hated people.

As he entered Whiterun, there were just clumps of them, all over. Mostly Nords, of course, to his disgust. If he hadn’t owed a debt of his life to Hadvar he would have run from this damned place all the way to Windhelm to kill the bastard Ulfric. But yet, he did owe such a debt and must now warn the Jarl of the impending dragon attacks. Such joy, warning a Nord of his own possible death.

Did he mention he hated Nords? 

It was late when he got to Whiterun, so there was no way he could get an audience with the Jarl. The guards had told him honestly that an audience might take days, and it sickened Roan to his stomach. To think, more days between him and his vengeance. 

In the meantime, he had decided to go to the Bannered Mare for some well deserved mead. He gorged himself in it, until he couldn’t feel his anger anymore. Funny, how he downed alcohol, and yet his own father died in a drunken brawl in Windhelm. One would think it would turn him away from the stuff, but it was the only way to numb the pain.

His father had only died a year ago. But the drunken brawl was no mistake. His father was a Dunmer, in Windhelm. They lived in the Gray Quarter and were hated by all Nords. Certain Nordic men had waited for Roan’s father to get drunk, so that they could easily antagonize him into a fight. It didn’t take long, Roan’s father wasn’t only a Dunmer but the town drunkard. Everyone hated him, even his own people. But Roan had loved him, and taken him home many a night from the tavern. Roan’s father had been a soldier in the war and it had messed him up pretty badly. But no one bothered to know that, they only knew him as Turion, the drunken Dunmer. 

As Roan downed another bottle of mead, he remembered how good it had felt to kill the men responsible for his father’s death. He chuckled, almost picturing the way the blood ran down their throats. The fools, the lot of them, for thinking their actions would cause no reaction. They were wrong. Dead wrong, to be exact.

“Are you sure you should be drinking so much, sir?” The barmaid gave him a concerned look, and Roan stared down into the bottom of his bottle. He had drunk quite a bit, almost all of his coin was gone. But he was not done forgetting just quite yet.

He gave her a look and she crept away, terrified by his white gaze. No one had quite liked looking at him since it happened. They either were intrigued or terrified, but not one had quite liked the way he looked. 

Sighing, he put down his bottle and decided it was time to go to the room he had rented for the week. Roan stumbled upstairs in his drunken state, and refused help from the Redguard maid who had tried to stop his drinking earlier. He brushed her off and continued up the stairs, shakily. 

Roan fell onto the bed and the second his head hit the pillow, he was out. It had been a long trip from Riverwood, and his taste for blood was beginning to become insatiable again. But he would worry about feeding it later. For now, he was content to sleep off his drunkenness, the only connection he had left to his father.

XXX

She had made it to Whiterun, but things were a little more troubled that she expected. Aurica got to the outskirts of the city when she saw a giant, being attacked by three warriors. And the warriors seemed to be having a bit of trouble. One was down on their knees, another trying to shoot with lame arrows at the thing, and another was bashing his sword against hard as stone skin. 

Aurica knew this was her chance. The group might have been of bandits, but she hoped they were warriors of Whiterun, as her first intentions told her. She quickly decided to let this be her beginning when it came to being a hero. She was going to save them.

Running towards the giant, she got out her bow and strung an arrow. Aiming carefully, she got it pointing straight at the giant’s eye. The monster fell the second the arrow became lodged in his skull. The warriors grinned at each other before looking at her. The female with a bow smirked. “Nice shooting, girl.”

Aurica straightened from her original fighting stance. “Thank you.”

The man who had been battering the giant with a greatsword came up next to the archer woman and smiled at Aurica. “Good work. Maybe you should come visit us in Jorrvaskr some time.” Aurica put the pieces together and beamed at them. These weren’t just any warriors, these were the Companions. These were the people she was hoping to see. And she just helped them kill a giant.

As they walked away, she was screaming internally. Her childhood heroes had just asked her to visit them. She scorned herself for getting so excited, and she kept her outer composure, but Aurica knew she was a little bit too eager on the inside. 

Trying to be nonchalant, Aurica strolled into Whiterun and, though she swore she would be suave, found herself in mere minutes right in front of Jorrvaskr. It was beautiful. It was everything she dreamed of. It was… well, perfect.

She could have died and gone to Sovngarde and she would have felt like her life was fulfilled.

Perhaps that thought was a bit dramatic, but Aurica was too joyful to care. With a few small steps she was at the door, and opening the entrance, to enter Jorrvaskr, her dream.  
When she entered, the man from before was in front of her, and he grinned at her. “Someone got here quickly.” He took one large step forward and was before her. His dark hair was long and untamed, his eyes bright. He terrified her and seemed like a friend all at once. “Name’s Farkas.” He stuck a hand out and she shook it. His touch was warm, and she liked that. Much different than the cold, calculating handshakes the Bortherhood promoted. 

She nodded and smiled. “My name is Aurica.”

The archer from before came up from behind him. “And I am Aela. Pleased to see you here, Aurica.”

Aurica glanced around the room, with its warm atmosphere and warrior touch all around. It felt like a hall of heroes should, or at least how she felt like it would feel. This was beyond compare. She chuckled. “I am beyond pleased to be here.”

Farkas smiled down at her. “Do you want to meet our leader? I think he’ll like you.”

She laughed in disbelief. Her first day in Whiterun, and everything was perfect. “I’d like that very much.”

Aurica couldn’t think of the day possibly being any better.

XXX

Roan couldn’t think of the day possibly being any worse.

He woke with a splitting headache. Damn that Nord mead. The barmaid should have stopped him from drinking so much. He drank at least a barrel of the stuff. He could almost swear it.

Damn it. He could at least if this headache would stop.

XXX  
Kodlak Whitemane was more of an epic hero than she had ever dreamed. He had a name fitting white beard, and a deep, heroic, authoritative voice. She practically bowed at his knees. But she kept her composure and merely smiled widely as he welcomed her to the Companion home. He even talked about making her a Companion, and she practically burst. But the bubble of her joy was also quickly popped. 

“I don’t think this little Bosmer has what it takes, Harbinger.”

Both Aurica and Kodlak turned to one of the top members of the Companions, Vilkas. His face was the stoniest she had ever met, with the same unruly black hair as his brothe,r Farkas, but not quite as long. His eyes were bright and transfixing. He was a member of the Circle, the group of highest ranking and most trusted Companions, a group including Aela, Farkas, Vilkas, a friend of theirs, Skjor, and of course, Kodlak, their leader, their Harbinger. His voice cut at her and not only wounded her a bit but angered her profusely.  
“I have what it takes.” Aurica glared at him and felt the cool hand of her Brotherhood training wash over her. She devised several ways to murder him right then and then, but then she realized that was the Brotherhood talking. Aurica, the Companion, the hero, would never do such a thing. 

Kodlak saw Aurica’s murderous look and stepped in between the two. “Fine, Vilkas, you may test her.” And then he looked at Aurica, and whispered, “No killing anyone today.”  
Aurica blinked, taken aback. It was as if he looked inside her and knew her. Saw the killer she was raised to be, and how it was fully ingrained in her. No one had ever read her like that, not even Dengier, and he had known her best since childhood. 

Nodding slowly, she followed Vilkas out to the training yard. It wasn’t long before the two of them were sparring, her with her magic enhanced Brotherhood blade, He with his greatsword. Though Vilkas had laughed at her small blade, called it a mere bee stinger, he soon found she was more than proficient with this ‘mere bee stinger’. Jabbing left and right, and prancing quickly around him, Aurica left a few marks on Vilkas, while she herself gained little to none.

Once they were done, they were both out of breath and sitting on the ground and Vilkas was giving her the most beautiful smile a man had ever given her. There was a slight blush to her cheeks, for more reasons than one. He seemed impressed, and she daren’t admit that with anything other than a small blade or a bow she was utterly awful at. The one time she swung a blade she had almost killed Dengier by accident. It was not a pretty sight, and set his Imperial spy theories about her back a couple months. 

Vilkas stood and extended a hand to help her up. That beautiful smile was still on his face. “I’m happily surprised, Wood Elf.”

She grinned right back. “The name’s Aurica.”

He nodded slowly. “Aurica.” Vilkas’s smile grew larger, before he coughed and let his face go back to its stoic staple. “I’ll certainly remember that.”

Letting go of his hand, they made their way back inside and met up with Kodlak. He was giving them a speculative look, for both came back with large grins on their faces. Kodlak raised an eyebrow at Vilkas, and he coughed and his face became stoic again. “She did much better than I thought she would.”

“Did she beat you, Vilkas?”

Aurica answered coyly before he could respond. “Knocked him straight down, Harbinger.”

Vilkas frowned at both of them and opened his mouth to retort, but Kodlak interrupted him. “Good, Aurica. Now time for your real test. Come on, let’s go meet up with Farkas, he’s going to take you on a little adventure...” Aurica followed him to the great hall, leaving Vilkas behind, defeated, and glaring at her.

She merely shrugged at him as she left, and chuckled as she entered the Great Hall.

Vilkas was definitely an interesting fellow, to say the least.

XXX


	4. Saadia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurica is finally a Companion, and Roan is still everlastingly angry. Roan tries to blow off some steam and wait for his meeting with the Jarl, while Aurica begins to become apart of the people she once had only dreamed of knowing...

To deal with the pounding in his head, Roan decided to do some pounding of his own. He wasn’t dumb enough to get in a fight with a Nord in this highly biased city, but he did find a nice Redguard barmaid named Saadia who worked at the Bannered Mare who had taken an interest in him the night before. Or at least, she felt concern for him. But it wasn’t long that concern was able to be turned into lust.

It wasn’t long before her cleaning his room turned to taking her clothes off.

Roan was a cocky man by nature, and there are few things cocky men love, but he knew he loved three things: His family, fire, and women. It wasn’t his fault he was also good with all three. What women wasn’t interested in a dark stranger from out of town? 

After he was done with her, they lay side by side, and Roan was pleased but a little annoyed. This one was a talker, she was, which was fine, but when the talk was about how she’d kill him if he ever told, it was less than pleasant. Women didn’t often threaten him with murder whilst in bed. But, albeit, Saadia was a firecracker. 

Now her threatening were over, he didn’t mind her so much. She was a pretty girl, a tough girl, and he liked that in a woman. Not enough to see her for a second date, but enough to respect her. Mother would have killed him if he didn’t grow up respectful. “Why are your eyes like that?”

He sighed. This was every woman’s first question in bed. Its always the body scars that get them wondering. That or your past. Nothing surprising. “They were burned when I was younger. I can still see, that was the miracle, but my eyes have been like this ever since the incident.”

Saadia propped herself up on her elbow and blinked at him. “Why was there fire anywhere near your eyes?”

Drunken men in Windhelm are cruel to Elves. But that would elicit nothing but pity. So Roan sighed, and shrugged, his hands behind his head. “Got to close to the hearth fire one day, I suppose. It wasn’t something memorable.”

She sighed. The girl was perceptive, she knew he was lying, but she knew it wasn’t worth her time, trying to get it from her. “Well, I suppose I should get back to my work.”  
Roan nodded. “You probably should.” He sat up and kissed her hand. “Thanks, by the way. I needed that.”

Saadia chuckled. “Don’t think you’re the only person with tension who needs to unwind, Dunmer. Now get dressed and stop drinking too much mead.”

Roan got up out of bed and pulled on his trousers. With a smile, he saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am.” They both knew he was lying again, but it was nice, for the moment. Saadia opened his door and closed it, going back to her tedious work at the Bannered Mare. And Roan put on his clothes, and decided it was time to try to talk to this Jarl fellow.

XXX

Aurica was frozen to the spot, as she stared at the large bowl before her, full of werewolf blood. After her highly successful missions in the past two weeks, including one with Farkas in which she saved his ass from a group of Silver Hand, werewolf hunters, that had tried to sneak up on him, they had decided to induct her into the Circle. It was surreal, and she was in enthralled shock when they asked her. She had never loved her bow and dagger as much as she loved them now. It had been a hard two weeks, sending her on countless missions to fight the undead and the Silver Hand, but they apparently had appreciated her help greatly. Aela adored having another archer in the Companions, and Farkas greatly appreciated having a bow guarding his back. 

Vilkas was the elusive one, never quite showing how he felt about her. Sometimes, he would give her a glimpse of that beautiful smile when she shot down an enemy or did something clever, but other times, when she wasn’t fighting, he would be stoic and cold towards her. Kodlak insisted that was simply how he was, stoic, but Aurica knew a smile like that didn’t come from just anywhere, and especially not from a stoic heart. She had made it her new personal goal to make the man of steel smile, and so far she was doing a decent job. There were even hints of a smile as she stood before the bowl, preparing to drink the blood of a werewolf and become one. 

It was hard, acting surprised when they changed into werewolves. The one thing she learned from her father about Companions was the Circle’s true nature, and even that excited her a bit. She had grown up to be calculating, precise. But being a werewolf, you could let a bit of that go, and become freer. The prospect of being a Companion, of being a bit free from the grip of the Brotherhood, enthralled her. 

Finally, she dipped her hands in the bowl and took a sip, before passing out.

XXX

Roan was going to murder someone. 

It had now been two weeks since he asked for an audience with the Jarl, and he had only gotten postponements and bureaucratic bullshit. The guards barely looked him in the eyes now when they told him the Jarl could not speak with him, afraid of his fury. He had almost punched one the other day, and Gods that would have been dumb, but at the same time by the Divines it would have been worth it. Roan had decided against violence, though. He would have enough blood once he reached Windhelm.  
That was the only thing that kept him going. 

Saadia had been a nice sporadic night companion for his frustrations, with her biting tongue and also kind concern for his drinking habits, but a woman one hardly knows was comfort for only so long. And even she felt the annoyance of his, for the fact the Jarl refused to see him. She used that biting tongue against the Jarl several times, when it was not distracted by other ventures.

Today was the day, though. Roan was going in, even if it meant he had to barge in. Saadia noticed his clenched fists at the bar and came to his side. “What’s making you so angry today, Roan?”

She used a playful tone, but Roan felt in no way playful. He didn’t care if it cut her, he glared at her words. “Waiting for the Jarl to acknowledge my request for an audience, per usual, Saadia.”

Saadia noticed the bite to his words, and frowned. “Someone’s particularly infuriated today.”

“Oh, really?” Roan took another drink of mead. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The woman blinked before putting a hand on her hip. “If you’re going to be cruel, warn a woman. Because I am not going to take any bit of it, you hear me? It is not my fault bureaucracy in Whiterun is slow.”

Roan emptied his mead bottle and groaned. “Women, such dramatic things.”

She retorted, “Men, such pompous pigs.”

“I apologize for being a pompous pig.” The Dunmer found himself chuckling, appreciating her honesty. “You know just what to say to get to a man, don’t you, Miss?” 

“Its my specialty.” Saadia grinned and then walked off, but not before chastising him. “Now get your lazy bones off the bar, stop drinking, and go talk to the Jarl.”

As he had gotten accustomed to, Roan mumbled, “Yes, ma’am,” before getting off the bar and making his way towards his room, to put on his armor and head straight to the one place he needed to go before he could get what he wanted. 

One final step before his vengeance. 

XXX


	5. Dragonborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurica gets hurt the first time she shifts into a werewolf, and Vilkas is concerned for her, while Roan finally gets his audience with the Jarl. What happens next, though, neither of them could have predicted...

Aurica opened her eyes and everything was a bit blurry. She moved to sit up, but found that dizzying so she laid her head back down. She was going to speak, but was distracted when she heard other voices in the room. “She almost died, Farkas. You should have kept a better eye on her on her first change.”

“I never knew she would run into a Silver Hand camp, brother. Do not blame me. She had already killed half of them before I could even blink an eye. Aurica is strong. Do not worry so.”

“She almost died. Shouldn’t you be worried more? We had to bring her battered body back here to Jorrvaskr and had to get a healer. That is the most dangerous first shift we’ve had in as long as I can remember. She probably won’t even remember what happened, she was so battered.” Aurica wanted to retaliate, to tell Vilkas to stop worrying, that she could take care of herself, but her head was foggy, and it was purely jarring to realize she really couldn’t remember what had happened last night. It was all a blur after the second she shifted into a werewolf.

Farkas chastised his brother, “When did you start caring? You’re nothing but cold to the girl.”

Vilkas practically growled. “You know I don’t like getting close to people, Farkas. She’ll leave. I can tell she’s the leaving kind. Aurica seems like the adventuring type.”

There was a long pause. “You like her, don’t you?”

“I do not. I just find it fruitless when she’ll leave. You know it. You see it in her eyes.” Vilkas’s voice was strong and pronounced, and Aurica tried again to move with no avail. “I’m not considering her family when she’ll just leave Jorrvaskr in the end. But I’d still prefer her not dead.”

Farkas sighed. “Fine, brother. You’re right, I should have kept a closer eye on her. We’re just lucky she can take care of herself.”

Finally, after much willpower, Aurica sat up in the bed and groaned. “Ow.” 

The brothers were soon at her side. Farkas spoke first, as her vision began to become clear. “Aurica. Are you ok?”

She gave a weak grin as everything came to focus. Putting a hand to her pounding forehead, she nodded. “Better off than a skeever in an abandoned ratway.” Aurica tried to laugh, but it hurt a bit. All of her muscles were sore. Stretching her shoulder, she moaned. “Ow, ok, I guess I’m a little sore.” Throwing off the covers, she felt suddenly cold, and realized she was only in tight underclothes. Blushing, she threw the covers back over herself. “I did not mean to do that.”

Farkas looked unfazed, even laughed a little bit, but Vilkas was looking in the opposite direction, avoiding eye contact. It almost Aurica blush more. Trying to change the topic, she grinned up at them and nonchalantly asked, “So when do I go on my next mission?”

Vilkas’s jaw may have dropped in shock, but Farkas gave a large, bellowing laugh, one that made her chuckle a bit as well. Farkas touched her shoulder and nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Shield-Sister, we’re ready for you.”

Aurica finally noted her new wolf armor on the chair next to the bed. Grabbing it, she nodded. “I’m ready now.” 

XXX

The guards had shirked him again, saying that the Jarl was probably busy and couldn’t see people. Oh, today that wasn’t going to cut it. 

Walking right past the guards, Roan entered Dragonsreach, the Jarl’s home, and barged right up to the throne. Jarl Balgruuf “the Greater” gave the Dunmer a speculative look as he approached the throne. His housecarl, a Dark Elf like Roan, took an uneasy step towards the man. 

Roan gave an annoyed sigh. “I have been waiting two weeks to tell you something very simple, Jarl. I was at Helgan, and there was a dragon there. An imperial soldier told me I should come here to warn you.” 

The Jarl’s eyes widened. “Dragons? In Skyrim?”

The Dunmer was too impatient and frustrated to be very receptive. “Yes, dragons, in Skyrim.” 

“Irileth, we must be in grave danger.” He looked to the Dark Elf woman at his side, and Roan scowled. Another of his kind bending to the will of the Nords. 

Just then, before Roan could speak, a guard, very shaken up, entered the hall. “There is a dragon, at the Western Watchtower. A dragon!” 

Roan scoffed, “It takes me two weeks to get an audience to talk about dragons but this guy just runs in here screaming dragon and now everyone pays attention .Typical.” He grumbled. “You would have been prepared for a dragon attack if I had gotten to speak to you two weeks ago.”

The Jarl cut his eyes at the Dunmer. “If you are so knowledgeable, go with Irileth to fight off the dragon. Maybe then I will give you just compensation for your troubles.” Roan knew that the Jalr was hoping the dragon would eat him, he knew it. But he couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when Roan came out of it, unscathed. 

Unsheathing his imperial sword that Hadvar had given him, Roan looked towards Irileth. “Ready to go?”

Irileth nodded curtly. “Let’s go kill ourselves a dragon.”

XXX

Gods, was Aurica sore. She almost could kiss Farkas in thanks for the fact that he only sent her to kill a bear nuisance in a cave nearby. It was almost certain her sore muscles couldn’t handle much more.

But on her way back, the way which normally passes by the Western Watchtower, she met an ungodly sight. The tower was half destroyed, the guards were shooting arrows haphazardly, and there was, by the Divines, a dragon of all things circling the tower! 

Shocked, Aurica grabbed her bow and began shooting at the thing, but even with her aim it did little damage to the beast. Times like these she wished she still had her Brotherhood arrows, instead of mere iron arrows. 

Running towards the Whiterun guards fighting off the dragon, she met an unfamiliar face. There was a Dumner there, a Dark Elf, in iron armor, shooting fire at the monster. Not many people she knew were mages, so to see one shooting fire and swinging an imperial sword, she was surprised to say the least.

Blinking back into focus, she shot an arrow up into the dragon’s eye and a guard next to her cheered her on. The Dunmer shot her a glance, and she merely smirked as the dragon began to the ground, landing for a fight. Aurica backed up to shoot more at it, but the strange Dark Elf merely ran at the beast’s face, with rage in his eyes, and began cutting at it. There was dragon blood on his quickly, and she daren’t get in his way as she loosed arrows into the dragon. 

Finally, the Dunmer did something insane. He jumped on the dragon’s back and stabbed his sword straight into its head. The beast fell still within seconds, but Aurica could merely give the crazy elf a slow smile. He was insane, but he was one hell of a fighter.

Jumping off the beast, the Dunmer walked straight towards her, his blinding white eyes bearing down on her soul. “You almost shot me!” 

She glared at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been in my way.”

Before they could continue their argument, something… strange began to happen to the dragon. The skin began peeling off in pools of golden light, and the golden light began drawing itself around the angry, stubborn Dunmer. Her eyes widened.

He looked down, staring at the gold around him, and blinked profusely. “What in the name of the Divines is going on?”

With a single breath, Aurica muttered the words all the guards were thinking as they stared at the dragon soul being absorbed by the Dark Elf. “You are the Dragonborn.”

XXX


	6. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roan is the Dragonborn, and he's not the only one surprised. But when Aurica is appointed as his follower, how will the two opposites react? Everything begins to change as they say goodbye to Whiterun...

Roan was puzzled. He had heard prophecies of the Dragonborn when he was young, but he couldn’t possibly be the Dragonborn…. Could he? 

Irileth and the Bosmer who almost shot him with her damn arrows accompanied him to Dragonsreach once more. He was in a bit of a daze the entire time, so while the Wood Elf and Irileth spoke, he practically heard nothing. All he heard was a strange call in the winds, and it almost felt as if it was beckoning him. 

Once they reached Dragonsreach, the Jarl immediately looked towards the Wood Elf. “Oh, a new Companion, I see? I have not seen you before. What is your name, elf?”

The girl grinned. “My name is Aurica, Jarl Balgruuf. I am the newest Companion.” The way she said Companion was nauseating. She obviously held the hero-warriors up a little too high on her list of important things. 

Rolling his eyes, Roan listened while the Jarl spoke again. “What is the event which brings you here, Companion?”

Aurica gave a weary look towards Roan, and blinked. “This one, is, well ,the Dragonborn.”

The Jarl’s eyes widened. “Dragonborn? That explains the Greybeard’s call.”

“Yes.” Irileth cut in. “I watched him absorb a dragon soul with my very eyes.”

“Then, he must visit the Greybeards. They will teach him the ways of the Thu’um.” Roan knew little about the Thu’um, the voice that the Greybeards used, that they learned from the dragons, to do powerful things. It was rumored they could bend animals to their will, sprint faster than any man, and even kill a man with only their voce. Just as Ulfric Stormcloak had killed the High King with his Thu’um. 

What irony it would be if Roan killed him with his own Thu’um. “Will you go see the Greybeards, Dragonborn?”

Roan smirked. ‘Yes.”

The Jarl looked at both of them, and smiled at Aurica. “How about our newest Companion accompany the Dragonborn on his way to High Hrothgar? You could definitely use the experience, Aurica, and Dragonborn, wouldn’t it be helpful to have a sword at your back to protect you?” The Jarl smirked, and answered before either part could interject. “Its settled. Aurica will travel with the Dragonborn.” Then he turned away from them, and Roan merely glared at Aurica in disgust.

Scoffing, he turned towards the door, his joy of killing Ulfric diminished by this order to bring this arrow shooting Wood Elf with him. “I work alone.”

Aurica glared at the stubborn Dunmer. “The Jarl said I shall help you, and by Gods, no matter how insufferable you can be, I will do just that.”

Roan turned and rolled his eyes. “This hero act you’ve got going is really cute, don’t get me wrong. But the last time I looked for companionship I found nothing but trouble. So thank you, Bosmer, but no thank you.”

As he turned, Aurica grabbed he shoulder and swung him back around. He blinked in shock at her strength for her small stature. “The name’s Aurica, not Bosmer, first of all. Second of all, you’re the hero here, so you better damn well start acting like it.” Brushing off his shoulder, she crossed her arms. “And third, no matter what you say I am following you on your quest. So you better get used to it, Dragonborn.” Before he could speak, Aurica strode past him and his eyes followed her in awe. “We leave at dawn.”

He wasn’t sure he liked this Bosmer. Maybe if he was lucky she’d be dead early on and he’d have less weight to carry, but by the Gods she was one hell of a woman.

Roan chuckled to himself and went back to the inn and waited for dawn.

XXX

Waking before dawn, Aurica moved nervously around Jorrvaskr, collecting her things. She planned on leaving the Circle a note, instead f having to face them. She knew they could convince her out of it, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to help save Skyrim. It was too enticing for her hero’s heart, and also too enticing to try to rid herself of her killer blood.   
Picking up her arrows and bow, she put them on her back as well as a bag. She sheathed her dagger in a pocket on her calf, and she took a deep breath, ready. “So, you’re leaving.”

She swiveled, surprised by the voice. It was Vilkas, leaning against her doorframe, staring at her with his stoic, gray eyes. She stared at the floor, and clenched her fists, frustrated to be caught, and especially by him. “Yes. The Jarl ordered me to help the Dragonborn on his quest.”

The Nord man shook his head. “And you readily agreed, of course.” He crossed his arms. “I knew you would leave. I knew you weren’t the staying type. Even if everyone here adores you.”

She scoffed, and stepped towards him, pointing a finger at him. “Except you, of course.”

He grabbed her hand. “You don’t tell me what I feel.” Letting go, he sighed. “You can leave if you want, Aurica, but know that you will be sorely missed. And I hate being the one to pick of the pieces of your mess, but I will if I have to.”

Aurica nodded and gave him a pleased look. “Thank you, Vilkas.”

“You’ll always be welcomed back, you know. My family forgives easily. Especially for a Shield- Sibling and a member of the Circle.” 

She bit her lip and took another step towards him. “I know. That’s why I love it here.”

He stepped towards her now, and put a hand on her arm. It was warm, and she suddenly felt a tingling of her skin she had never felt before. Her eyes stared at his hand before meeting his eyes once more. “Then stay.”

Her breath was uneven as she stared into his gray eyes, and for a sliver of a moment they looked down to his lips. She wondered how they would feel on her… 

Shaking her head, she snapped back into focus. This was another reason she had to leave. Ever since the beast blood, men had simply looked too delicious for her to handle. Particularly, Vilkas. And she wasn’t sure she could handle living with him and not starting something. She had to leave, and leaving with a highly stubborn and annoying Dark Elf was the perfect way to save herself from feelings.

She put a hand to his chest and pushed him back slightly, knowing he was too close already. “I have to go, Vilkas.”

He looked to the ground and took a step away from her, creating a safe distance between the two. “I understand.” As she walked past him, he muttered, “Good luck, Aurica.”  
She glanced back, “Thank you.”

And then she left Jorrvaskr, not knowing the road ahead of her, but hoping it would be one to remember.

XXX

Roan had always known he had to leave, but he had to say goodbye to Saadia first. As dawn rose, he came down stairs to find her working behind the bar, almost as if she was waiting for him. “Morning, Ma’am.”

Saadia smiled. “Morning, Roan.” But then she looked at what he was wearing, his iron armor and had a bag over his shoulder, and her smile faded. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I am.”

“It’ll more strange to not see your pessimistic face around here. I’ve gotten used to you these past two weeks.”

Roan chuckled. “And I, you, Saadia.”

“Have a safe trip.”

He leaned over the bar and didn’t care who was looking, and kissed her. “Goodbye, Ma’am.” 

Then, he left the Bannered Mare, to only find his belligerent Wood Elf waiting outside, playing with her arrows. When he exited, she looked up from her work and stood. “Good morning, Dragonborn.”

He was a bit bitter from making a friend for once and then having to leave her. He was not up for Aurica’s chipper voice in the morning. “Don’t talk. Just guard my back.”  
Aurica rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Dragonborn.” She said his name as if it was a curse. He chuckled.

“Good, you’re learning.” Then he began the journey, walking towards the entrance of Whiterun, ready to meet these elusive Greybeards and become the Dragonborn. 

He also couldn’t wait for people to sing of how the Dragonborn killed Ulfric Stormcloak. He heard Aurica humming from behind him, and he wanted to beat her. 

This was going to be a long trip.

XXX


	7. Riverwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurica and Roan begin their journey, but they don't quite initially get along, and neither do they quite understand one another...

Roan had barely spoken to her for the entirety of their walk from Whiterun to Honningbrew meadery. Aurica was losing her mind in the silence. Silence was perfect when alone and on the hunt, but when you were with someone? It wasn’t as pleasant. His silence was cold, and she disliked it. 

“So, we could head through Riverwood to her to Ivarstead. That’s where the path to High Hrothgar, the Greybeards’ home, begins.”

Roan coughed awkwardly as he strode on. “That wouldn’t be the best idea.”

Aurica blinked. “Why not?”

He shrugged, not even stopping to look at her. “Let’s just say I’m not on the best foot with the people of Riverwood.”

“By the Divines, you killed someone didn’t you?” Roan stopped short, surprised that she knew so immediately. “That would be the easier route but, no, we have no place to stop and rest because you killed someone. Good going, Dragonborn.”

Roan turned and frowned at her. Grasping her hand, he shook his head. “The name’s Roan.” He let go of her hand as her mouth stayed agape. “My name is Roan.” 

Aurica nodded, slowly. “Roan it is then.” She sighed. “I suppose once we get there you should stay outside of Riverwood while I get us some supplies.”

Roan wanted to retort and be angry with her and tell her they would get by with no more supplies, but she was right. At this pace they needed to restock sometime, they hadn’t left with much to live off of. She was practical and professional. He wasn’t sure if he respected her or hated her for it.

He turned back around. “I suppose it sounds reasonable.”

“Oh, you just hate to admit I’m right.”

Rolling his eyes, Roan kept on walking. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. It’s none of your business.”

Aurica scoffed. “You’re so difficult.”

“Well, if I was so difficult, why did you agree to accompany me? Hmm?”

“If you don’t remember correctly, the Jarl ordered me to. It is now my sworn duty as a Companion to help the Hold of Whiterun, so I must do all in my power to help, even if it means following you.”

“Oh, you hero-types are always the same, talking about honor and duty and all that bullshit.”

“You’re supposed to be the Dragonborn, the greatest hero of them all, what are you doing frowning upon heroes?”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a hero. Maybe I just want to be Roan. Ever thought of that?” He took a deep breath. “I’m not the hero-type. The title of Dragonborn should go to people like you. But if I have this power, I will use it as I wish.”

“Are you not going to try to help save Skyrim from the dragons?”

“Probably not, Companion.”

Aurica blinked. “You have a duty to these people, Roan. You owe it to them, to Skyrim, to at least try and save them from all this dragon mayhem. You’re the only one who can.”  
“I owe these people nothing. Nords deserve what they get.”

She grabbed his arm and made him turn and look at her. “No one deserves this devastation. You saw Helgan. I heard the Jarl’s men talking about it. You’ve seen what these dragons do. You cannot just stand by and do nothing.”

Roan leaned down and glared into her eyes, their faces centimeters apart. “Try me, Aurica.” Turning, he began walking forward again. “If you want to leave, you can. Otherwise, shut up and follow me.”

Aurica wanted more than anything to turn back and return to Jorrvaskr. But she couldn’t lose this chance, this chance at adventure. It was a once in a lifetime chance, and maybe over time she could sway the Dragonborn into being more honorable than how he acted.

XXX

The little wood elf was insufferable. Even when she wasn’t running her mouth about honor and duty, she was sighing and humming. He was about to say something to her about it when they came upon a cave, were something strange seemed to lurk. Roan turned to stop her and warn her of the danger, but he turned only to find her behind a rock next to him, her eyes firmly trained on the cave before them. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breathing. She was so serene and in her element, Roan lost himself for a moment staring at her unruly dark hair and her bright, golden eyes. 

Her eyes flashed to him. “Can you see what’s in there?”

He refocused on the cave. There was a light within, and he could make out two figures sauntering about the place as if they owned it. Aurica’s eyes narrowed. “That would be a good place to camp for the night.”

“They’re just simple bandits. Let’s storm it, you from one side, I from the other.”

Aurica stepped out in front of him and shook her head. “No, allow me.” Perching herself on top of the rock, she brought out her bow. Roan scoffed. Cocky wood elf, thinking she could make that shot. The men were a decent fifty feet away. But before he could chastise her, she loosed an arrow and one of the men fell, dead.

Roan’s eyes widened as he stared in awe at the woman. The second man moved to exit the cave, but she quickly restrung her bow and let another arrow fly, hitting the man in the leg. She got off her rock and began walking towards the cave, the man screaming in pain. She glanced back at Roan. “You coming?”

He nodded slowly and followed her. When she reached the mouth of the cave, she kicked the fallen man in the side. Roan blinked. He had not seen this beautifully cruel side to his dutiful, honorable Companion, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

The wood elf glared down at the crippled man. “Are there any more of you?”

He winced in pain. “No, just my partner and I.” The man stared up at them, mainly Roan. “Please don’t hurt me, elves. I am impressed by your prowess with a bow, Dunmer, and submit to you. I promise to do whatever you wish.”

Before Roan could speak, Aurica had a stoic, calculating look on her face as she pulled out a dagger. “First, the bow was mine, bandit. Second, no one offends a master bowman.” Roan stood in shock as Aurica pulled the blade against his thorat, cutting his jugular, and letting the blood flow out of his body, as he lay, dead. 

Aurica stared at her own blade, as if surprised by her own actions. “I never knew you had that much in you, Bosmer.”

“I had forgotten.” She stared in horror at the dead man, dripping blood. She wiped her blade off on his clothes and put it away. “I guess I still can’t quite handle people underestimating me.” Roan knew there was more to the story, because those were actions of an expert killer, but he didn’t want to ask. She looked too shell-shocked to even speak, and he wanted to revel in the silence for a little while.

Heading towards a bedroll that the bandits had left behind in their death, Roan sat down and nodded towards Aurica. “You probably should get some sleep before you venture into Riverwood tomorrow.” 

She simply agreed before entering her own bedrool and rolling over, into a deep sleep.

This wood elf was an interesting companion, and certainly not the kind of companion he expected out of a hero-type. Her killing style was cold, calculated, experienced, nothing like his own. Maybe she could become of use in his plans to murder the King Killer, Ulfric Stormcloak. 

XXX

Aurica felt comfortable in her own silence as she entered Riverwood. They had stolen the money from the bandits’ bags and now had more than enough gold for supplies. The town was small and quaint, but beautiful, with the river running next to it, the mill chopping away with ease, and the people running about. Add a little darkness and death and take away the river and it was Falkreath. She missed her home, the more she thought about it, it was the only home she had ever known, and now she had two homes, Jorrvaskr and Falkreath. But Falkreath still held her heart more fully. 

And she missed it.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought and entered the first building on the right when she came in the northern entrance, a place called the Riverwood Trader. She entered the store and it was dimply lit, yet welcoming. There was a saddened man at the counter, staring at his things. 

Aurica coughed awkwardly. The man looked up. “Oh, hello, stranger! My name is Lucan Valerius. How may I serve you today?” 

She smiled warmly, trying to brighten up the cold room. “My name is Aurica. I was looking for food and supplies. I’m going on a long journey.”

He nodded. “I believe I can help you with that.”

The Wood Elf listed off things they needed, such as bread, extra clothes, drinks, fruit, meat. Lucan kindly handed over all the supplies and even gave her a nice bag to put them in and she handed over the appropriate amount of gold. Before she left, though, she stared at his sorrowful face and couldn’t help but ask, “I’m so sorry to bother, but why do you look so sad?”

The man sighed. “My sister was found dead last month. Its been rumored it was a Nordic hate crime and my sister was simply caught in the crossfires.” Lucan shook his head. “The man who killed her thought she was a Nord and didn’t even bother to know her before he killed her.”

Aurica’s face flushed. She knew an irrational, Nord hating elf that she was traveling with. And he had said he killed a person in Riverwood. Could this be…?

By the sad look on the man’s face, she knew it had to be. Her heart ached for the man, and burned towards Roan. He was a thoughtless murderer.

At least when she was a murderess her work was calculated, clean, thoughtful. He hadn’t even bothered to know his kill wasn’t even a Nord.

She frowned. “I am o sorry, Lucan. I wish the best for you. Thank you for the supplies.” He nodded towards her and she moved to exit the shop, but then paused. “Ifs there anything I can do for you on my adventures?”

He gave a slow, weak smile. “Actually, a valuable of mine was stolen a little bit ago…”

XXX


End file.
